The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1887-07-09
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OUR PARISH MYSTERY.

No one would ever have thought that
our little village in Kent was destined to
immortality. 1t was one of the most
commonplace of English hamlets, inhabited
only by fishermen and farm laborers. Our
Vicarage, the Grange, and a pretty little
cottage, called Sea View, were the only re-
spectacle houses in the place. On our
arrival at the parsonage, Sea View cottage
was to let, and so all the society that was
to be had was that of the Grange people,
the Squire and family. Now, though Mr..
and Mrs. Dale were excellent people in
their way as9 very hospitable, there was
certainly some excuse for our wishing for
an occasional change of society, and all the
more so that we had come to Sandyille
from one of the most fashionable towns in
the north of England. 1t was therefore
with great pleasure that we heard one day
from Mrs. Dale that Sea View cottage had
al last found tenant.
"And more than mere tenant, added
the Squire, radiantly; "a person of great
distinction. Sea View will become as ia
nous as Rydal Mount | signed the lease
with Mrs Mort.
"Mort?" | cried. "You don't mean
James Mort, the author of Georgette?
"The same, answered Mrs. Dale, smil-
ing, no doubt at my having confessed my
self reader of novels; ''the great novelist.
He has taken the house for nine years"
"HaVe you seen him? What is he
like?" asked qAxiously.
"No. We have only seep his wife. She
came over from Dover yesterday, They
have Just arrived from Paris, where Mr..
Mort has been living. lie was too fright
ened to accompany her. The passage from
Calais had greatly upset him. Mrs. Mort
seems a charming person, though rather
peculiar"
@And when are they coming to live
here?"
GAS soon as the house is in order. We
have got the men at it nov. Jabson pro-
missed to have it ready in fortnight"
About three weeks later my husband
and called on our new Pensioners. We
were received by Mrs. Mort, who answered
the bell herself.
"The parson and his wife, | should say
from your look Come in. | don't keep
servant, you see. Don't make noise.
This way please"
was somewhat astonished at this well
come, which was grufiiy and abruptly spok-
en-. My husband, I could see from his
preternaturally solemn expression, was
making a violent effort to control his laugh
ter. Certainly Mrs. Mort cut very COM
zeal figure. She was tall, fat woman,
with very red face, and was dressed in a
black gown, that might have been made in
Paris under the First Empire. The waist
came up close beneath the breast, and was
circled with flowing white sash. Her
hair was cut quite short, like mans.
SURPRISING our laughter as best we
could we followed her into the drawing
room. We were surprised to find that
the windows, which commanded an excel
lent view of the sea, had been plastered
over with red paper, which completely hid
the outside, and cast lurid and unpleasant
light over the interior Of the room. The
furniture consisted of sofa covered with
black stuff, two arni-chairs en- suit, two
other chairs, piano, and round table.
There was no carpet on the floor, and the
walls were simply whitewashed. The cell
ing was stuck over with black paper. On
the table were various books, which | re-
eognized, by their titles, as Mr.. Morris
york. A picture, with his face turned to
the wall, hung over the piano. Over the
door was fixed bracket, on which stood a
large plaster-cast bust the head of which
was extingnished under paper FOOLS cap.
"Well take the weather fof granted.
said Mrs. Mort, motioning to US to sit
down.
"Let's talk of something else"
Nv husband behaved like darling. !
am certain that if l had opened my mouth
ct that moment l should have burst into
fits of laughter. He saw this and came to
the rescue.
aWe hope you APO comfortably settled
in your new home, Mrs. Mort" he said.
elbow do you like Sandville ?"
aSandville? Oh, yes. Know nothing
about it, retorted the lady.
She had not sat down, but was standing
with her back to the wall, with her hands
behind her.
"You have not had time to see the place
yet. continued my husband. at is quiet,
but very charming. There are some de-
lightful walks by the seaside. 1t is just
the place for a literary map. Mr.. Mort
will be delighted with it."
sob! will he2" answered his wife.
"By the way, how is hep" l asked
"We had hoped to see him. l trust he is
not unwell."
"No, he's sleep"
"Asleep? 1 presume he has not yet re-
covered from the fatigue of his journey
"No, it isn't that. He always sleeps in
the day. He works at night It is an
imitation of Ralzac. Balzac, you know
used to go to bed at six. and get up al
twelve. Mort goes to bed at nine in the
evening. He has his tub then, and his
breakfast, and begins writing Immediately
afterward; when say writing mean com.
posing. He dictates, Iwrite. | have beer
his secretary for years. Ever since be
started as a novelist, in fact"